Iterum atque Iterum
by Nimbirosa
Summary: The war is over with the Light as victor, but at a terrible price. Many lie slain, and the new generation is haunted by bittersweet memories of the old. When Fate grants Harry a second chance, however, nothing happens quite the way it is supposed to...
1. Prologue: Another Chance

**Iterum atque Iterum: Again and Again**

**Book One: In the Eye of the Beholder**

Prologue – Another Chance

The bustle in the infirmary was getting to be rather annoying, Harry Potter mused as he lay swaddled in bed. He'd been in the infirmary for an entire month, recovering from his battle with Voldemort. Today, though, he was finally strong enough to be dismissed from Madame Pomfrey's care.

Not only that, but today was also his last day of school – ever. Hogwarts had been his home for seven years now, but soon Harry would be moving on. He'd been accepted as an Auror-in-training immediately upon application, thanks in some small part to his fame and the notoriety of his actions over the years. Hell, the Aurors had practically offered him the job!

Ron would be training alongside him, to Mr. Weasley's pride. Mrs. Weasley would have been even prouder. But like so many others, she was a casualty of the war against Voldemort.

His good mood vanishing, Harry slumped back down into his cocoon of blankets. Too many had died. Sirius, Remus, Molly, Percy, Fred, George, Hagrid, Seamus, Dean… countless others as well. Too many people were missing now from Harry's year, those who should have graduated along with the Boy Who Lived but were instead gone forever.

Everything had changed when Sirius died. Remus had lost all will to live when his best friend was killed, and so threw himself into the war with a murderous passion. He lasted three months, and it took eight Death Eaters to finally bring him down. Charlie died a bare day after, killed by Voldemort himself. Percy…well, his death was better left unmentioned.

Fred and George had become perhaps two of the most effective warriors against Voldemort, not only for their bravery and strength, but for their ingenuity with disguises and their numerous inventions and traps that always managed to bring down a few Death Eaters. Voldemort killed them personally, as he'd done their older brother.

Ginny was killed because she was dating Harry. After that, Harry remained entirely single.

Molly went a bit insane after her three sons and only daughter were killed. Seeing only vengeance, she blasted through a good many Death Eaters before she was taken out. Her temper, always famous, was now legendary.

People started dropping like flies after the Weasley's were thus decimated. The death had continued until Harry finally managed to come to Voldemort, face-to-face, once more.

Voldemort died. Painfully.

And Harry, set upon by countless followers of Riddle's, barely escaped with his life.

"Ready for your last day?"

Harry blinked, startled at the intrusion upon his thoughts. Ah…it was Dumbledore. The older man had entered the infirmary unnoticed, and now stood by Harry's bed with a twinkle, missing for the last two years, sparkling in his eyes.

"Yeah…. I was just thinking about…the past." Harry had almost said 'the dead', but he knew any mention of the Second War would kill the natural joy for life now bubbling up in the Headmaster.

Nevertheless, Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what Harry had been pondering. "It is not always best to hold so tightly onto what has gone, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, taking a seat on the edge of Harry's bed. "Learn to live for the present. The past…it will do nothing but hurt you if you don't let it go."

Dumbledore had said as much many times in the past month. As always, Harry remained silent.

Sighing, Dumbledore changed the subject. "Ready to give your speech?"

Harry's lips twisted slightly. Amazing, how he could face down Voldemort time and again, yet want to run screaming at the very thought of public speaking. "I've had time to write it during my stay," he replied lightly. Truth was, he was going to wing it. Anything else would sound too…well, inept. Not expressive enough.

Not true enough.

Truth be told, Harry shouldn't be the student giving a speech. It ought to be Ron or Hermione, as the Head Students. But Harry had been their leader, had united the entire school against Voldemort when Dumbledore had been captured.

So Harry was the one to speak.

Joy.

The parents and students…too few, far too few…assembled in the Great Hall all applauded as Harry was called to the Head Table give his speech. The seventeen-year-old limped slightly as he walked, still not entirely healed from the last battle. His ungainly gait, however, was a tribute to his heroics in the fight against Voldemort, and only gained him more applause.

Cheers he didn't deserve. He'd done what he had to do, no more and no less. Not enough by a long shot.

Never mind that he'd killed Voldemort, finally ending the monster's life by draining all of the Dark Lord's essence into himself – Including all of Voldemort's powers. Never mind that he'd saved countless lives.

Too many others had died.

Grim-faced and solemn, Harry stood before the Hall, looking sadly down on the sea of watching children and adults. All of them were veterans of a war. All of them were survivors.

"We are here today to celebrate the graduation of Hogwarts' current seventh years. There are those who should be here but aren't. Everyone here has lost someone – a friend, a child, a parent…. We look around and see the empty places where they should be.

"There has been death and pain in this past year. There has been sorrow and hatred and grief. But while these mark the day around us, we are here to celebrate life, the transition of students to adults.

"Every one of these students has proven their bravery- whether it be by turning their back on those who raised them to fight for the Light –" he glanced over at Draco, who nodded slightly- "or those who charged against their enemies in a desperate stand against evil. Every one of us has seen death.

"Some may say not to dwell on the past, on what has been. Frankly, I would be a hypocrite if I advised the same. Remember what has happened. Remember those who died so that we might graduate this day.

"Remember the dead, and live on in their name."

To Harry's shock, he saw tears in several eyes, yet small smiles on so many faces. Many were nodding in agreement with his words. Personally, Harry wasn't quite sure what he'd just said, and was currently dwelling on the fact that he'd subconsciously rhymed 'day' with 'name'.

As Dumbledore stood up to give his own speech – one guaranteed to be longer than his normal 'Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak' speeches, Harry slipped out of the Great Hall, out of the castle altogether.

The evening sky was rapidly darkening, the moon full on the horizon. Remus would be curled up in his basket – if he had lived. Sirius would be transformed into a dog, comforting his friend with his presence. Fred and George would be working on some new device or spell in their joke store, Charlie would be off in Romania, with his dragons once more. Percy would be blathering on about his new job. Mrs. Weasley would be fussing over her family.

Ginny would be there, smiling at him, giving him that look she reserved solely for her love.

Fighting back tears, Harry turned his gaze heavenwards, staring up at the night sky. So many stars out tonight….

Harry remembered Ginny telling him about some of Charlie's stories not long after the twins had died. "Charlie says that every star is the soul of someone passed on, set forever in the skies."

So many stars…were there so many because up there, numerous new ones shone? The brightest would be Ginny's. Nothing had ever broken her- each new hardship only made her stronger.

God, how he had loved her.

How he loved her still.

Bitterly, he whispered into the night air, "I wish I may, I wish I might…."

What did he wish for, anyway? That Ginny could come back? That Sirius could come back? That his parents had never died?

"I wish…I just wish I could do something. Save those I couldn't. I wish….

"I wish I could have a second chance."

Lightning flared, streaking across a clear night sky.

And it struck Harry.

Pain running through him, Harry slowly opened his eyes. Yes – It was still night. But the stars were different – not as bright, and positioned oddly.

Pulling himself achingly off of the ground, Harry stared around him. He was standing in the middle of the charred, blackened ruins of some kind of small structure, the velvety night oppressive above him. An odd chill ran down Harry's spine, prompting him to shiver slightly. But the chill also seemed to dispel the last of the pain swamping him; pain from his confrontation with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, and pain from being zapped by lightning on a storm-less night.

Where was he?

Suddenly, a high-pitched wailing reached Harry's ears. It sounded almost like a young banshee, but was somehow more disturbing. Wand out and at the ready, Harry cautiously approached the area the sound emerged from.

There, in a cradle of fallen timber, lay a small baby swaddled in dirty linen and covered in ash. It was male, with wide green eyes and black hair that stood in out stark contrast to his overly pale skin.

On his forehead was a jagged cut, one that would one day become a lightning-shaped scar.

"Holy shit," Harry muttered, his own eyes widening to mirror the infant's. "This can't be. This can't be. This cannot _THE HELL _be!"

The baby stared, momentarily forgetting to scream its lungs out. Apparently, he wasn't used to adults being just as loud as he was.

Despite his rather vocal protestations, Harry somehow knew exactly what was happening. He'd wished upon a star…and it had come true. This was his second chance, this infant form of him. Harry wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to do, but he knew that his wish had somehow come true.

He was going to set things right. Obviously it was too late for his parents, if the charred remains of their house was anything to go by…but he could still do so much else.

Starting with himself.

Any time now, Hagrid would be showing up to cart little Harry off to the Dursleys, setting Harry up from the beginning for a life of unhappiness and pain. He could change that now.

And all he had to do was reach out and pick himself up.

But there was another consideration. Sirius Black. If things went as they did before, Harry's Godfather would end up in Azkaban, and Peter Pettigrew would get away scotch free.

Azkaban had scarred Sirius almost beyond healing. Another thing Harry could change.

With nary a second thought, Harry swept his younger self up…and things changed.

Suddenly he was…wearing a diaper? Lying on rubble? Chubby?

Horror overtook Harry. He was now trapped in his infant-self's body.

Shit. Not good.

After screaming in annoyance a few times and getting increasingly furious with the baby-wail he emitted, Harry chose to sulk and wait. Amusing himself by idly trying to grab his small feet in his hands – how could fingers really be _that _small? – Harry heaved a small sigh and waited impatiently for Hagrid to arrive. It had been several minutes already, and Harry had discovered that all of his powers remained with him, including Voldemort's powers. He could still perform wandless magic, and he could still clearly remember everything he had learned in the past several years.

Well, he'd asked for it. A second chance…. But he hadn't meant living his entire life over, damnit!

Finally Hagrid arrived. Harry immediately cast a Disillusionment spell on himself, feeling a pang of guilty regret as Hagrid grew frantic in his search for the infant Potter. Harry was _not _going to live another ten years with the Dursleys, thank you very much.

He'd just wait until Sirius arrived…and then his new and improved childhood would begin.

After five minutes of futile searching, Hagrid, sniffling, seemingly gave up. As he was trudging away from the scene, a loud screeching noise broke through the rather still night.

Sirius.

He was riding a flying motorcycle, cutting through the dark thoughtlessly. Hagrid paused and stared, his shoulders drooping even more. '_Ah, yes. Now he has to tell Sirius that his godson has gone missing,_' Harry thought, feeling ever sorrier for the half-giant.

Harry couldn't make out what Sirius and Hagrid said once his godfather landed, but he clearly heard the, "NO!" Sirius shouted after a few moments. "No, he's still here," Sirius snarled, heading straight towards the burnt-out house of his best friend. "Harry is not dead. I'd know if he was."

Hagrid shook his head sadly, before shouting to Sirius, "Thanks fer the bike! Dumbledore will be here soon, an' he'll help yer look!"

With that, Hagrid was gone. Harry immediately countered his own Disillusionment charm, before letting out a clearly audible sniffle. The response was immediate – Sirius whirled, his young face gaunt with grief, his eyes wild. And then Black saw Harry.

"Thank God," he whispered hoarsely, striding to the boy and dropping to his knees at Harry's side. "Oh, thank God." Sirius swept Harry into his arms and cradled him against his chest, shutting his eyes tight against oncoming tears.

"Pafoo," Harry murmured sleepily, distantly annoyed at the bastardization of his words. Damn his undeveloped state!

Sirius laughed bitterly at the sound of his nickname. "Yeah, it's me, Padfoot. C'mon, then, Harry…I've got to get you someplace safe."

Sirius Apparated to an old, run-down house Harry had never before seen. It wasn't Black Manor, that was for certain, nor was it Hogwarts or anywhere in Hogsmeade.

"Now wait here and be a good boy while I go kill your Uncle Wormtail, eh?" Sirius told the boy, rage and grief warring in his eyes.

Uh-oh. Not good. Harry immediately began wailing, crocodile tears falling from his eyes to Sirius' robes. To Harry's unspeakable relief, Sirius' face softened and he held Harry tighter.

"No, you're right," Sirius sighed, as if in response to Harry's wails. "Peter isn't worth it, not while I have you to look after. But if everyone thinks I was the Secret Keeper…." Black trailed off, his expression hardening into determination. "Well, looks like you and me are outlaws now, Harry."

Harry gurgled in approval. '_Wanted dead or alive…._'


	2. Reimmersion

**

* * *

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all you reviewers! Your response has simply blown me away. If you have any questions, address them to me in my yahoo group (the link is in my profile under 'homepage'. If you prefer not to join, then simply add 'nimbirosa' to your msn (at hotmail), yahoo or AOL messenger. **

**Dedicated to the G-E-T team.

* * *

**

**Iterum atque Iterum: Again and Again**

**Book One: In the Eye of the Beholder**

Chapter One – Reimmersion

Harry grinned up at Sirius, emerald eyes dancing in his thin face. He was a child now – physically, at least. Mentally, he was at least twenty-five…not that he minded having a second childhood to live through. He'd missed his first, after all.

He and Sirius were living in a run-down apartment in Italy now, having recently come from Bath. And they were currently celebrating Harry's eighth birthday.

"Defensive Spells and Curses for those Obsessed with Remaining Alive," Harry read the title of the beat-up book Sirius had gotten him. His godfather knew well Harry's near fanatical interest with learning Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Sirius also knew just how powerful Harry really was. The boy could perform wandless magic almost with ease, needing Sirius' wand for his spells only when a more subtle touch was needed. Really, it was ironic – the only spells Harry couldn't do wandlessly were those that were inherently less powerful than most. For those, he needed a wand or else the spell would go entirely overboard – instead of unlocking a door, for instance, he would blow an entire wall out.

"One more present," Sirius said with a mischievous spark in his eyes. Harry immediately frowned.

"You've gotten me seven books, and I know we can barely afford that. Are you sure we –"

"Stop worrying," Sirius cut Harry off with a smirk. "I swear, sometimes I think you're the adult of us."

Harry grinned back, an odd gleam in his eyes – as if he knew something Sirius didn't. It was a look Sirius had often seen sported by Dumbledore. Seeing that same twinkle in his godson's gaze was downright unnerving.

Shaking off all such thoughts, Sirius handed a rather large, unwrapped cardboard box to Harry, hoping the boy wouldn't see the many air holes decorating the gift. Of course, his hopes were in vain – Harry was perhaps the most observant child Sirius had ever come in contact with. The boy missed nothing.

Blinking and eying Sirius with suspicion, Harry shook the box lightly.

_: SSSTOP: _came a hissing sound from inside. Harry's eyes widened.

"You got me a snake!" he exclaimed, an incredulous grin splitting his face. "Thank you, thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

Sirius had to chuckle at the boy's fervent thanks. He knew Harry was a parselmouth, and he'd been aware for years how the boy yearned for a pet snake. But Harry had never asked for one – really, Harry never asked for anything.

Quite frankly, Sirius was mystified by the boy. No one – powerful or not – had ever performed intentional wandless magic younger than fifteen…at least not in living memory. And Harry himself was a riddle. Sometimes he seemed his age, and other times he seemed much, much older. Occasionally he would slip into depression, which he would eventually shake off. Right after those depressions he would always study with a fanatical fervour.

He kept journals full of information that Sirius had only ever gotten a quick glance at before Harry realized his godfather was reading over his shoulder. He'd been speaking in full sentences since he was a tiny toddler, and had learned to walk rather early as well. By all accounts, Harry was far too advanced for an eight-year-old.

And the boy never acted with that thoughtless selfishness most children possess. He never begged for a new toy or complained about their lack of funds. He didn't contest the rules Sirius set, nor did he break them without good reason. He was never cruel, and seemed to cherish his life and Sirius himself.

Quite frankly, it had Sirius worried. Harry was simply too mature. James, at his age, had been a little hellion, a tad of cruelty mixed in with endless charm. James had never – at least as a child – shown the thoughtfulness that Harry always exhibited.

Sirius had nothing against his godson's personality, of course. But he was worried that he'd somehow taken too much of Harry's innocence away, due to their poverty and their constant moving.

"She says her name is Neasa," Harry said, abruptly jerking Sirius out of his dour contemplations. "She's also extremely poisonous."

Sirius gaped. "Poisonous? The manager didn't say a thing about poison!"

Harry grinned, apparently pleased that his new pet could kill them both with ease. "Really, Sirius, don't you know a viper when you see one? And don't worry – she won't attack anyone unless they attack her first – or if they attack me," he said as an afterthought.

"Great," Sirius groaned. "We got us a guard-snake. Lovely."

"Five, four, three, two, one…" Harry counted under his breath.

"DID YOU SAY _VIPER_?"

* * *

"Stationary-majiggies?" 

"Check."

"Poisonous snake with a grudge against me?"

"Check."

"Unbelievably boring school books that you've long surpassed the level of?"

"Check."

"Trillions of unnecessary advanced books on magic?"

"Check."

"God-awful, hole-ridden, second-hand robes?"

"Check."

"Apothecary supplies for potions, Merlin help us all?"

"Check."

"Wand that happens to be the brother of Voldemort's?"

"Check."

"Well…looks like we're set," Sirius said with a grin. "Oh, I forgot! One more thing: animagus godfather accused of being a traitor who will also be your familiar, in the form of a rather handsome grim?"

"Hmmm…handsome, you say? I think we're missing one of those –"

"Ahem."

"I mean…check."

Harry grinned to himself as he collapsed onto a compartment seat on the Hogwarts Express, Snuffles at his side and Neasa wrapped loosely around his shoulders. He had no ticket, no letter of invitation, and the wizarding world thought he was dead.

He was going to Hogwarts.

Sirius leapt onto the seat next to Harry, his large canine eyes shining with glee. Harry knew the man couldn't wait to see McGonagall's face when Harry announced who he was.

A Marauder forever. Circe help the world.

: _Tell the mutt to leave me alone: _Neasa hissed in Harry's ear, glaring at Sirius, who had playfully batted with one paw at the viper's tail. Neasa really did not like Snuffles.

Their feud provided Harry with an endless source of humour.

"Snuffles, leave the angry, venomous snake alone."

Sirius whined ingratiatingly, but complied. _'Damn, I'm good,' _Harry thought with a smug smile.

This was going to be a blast.

They all started slightly as the compartment door slid open. Neasa slithered out of sight, Snuffles stood up, ears pricked, and Harry's hand was clenched unobtrusively around his wand.

"I say," a familiar voice cried exclaimed jovially.

"This one's practically empty!" Another laughed.

"Hope you don't mind, young sir –"

"But the other 'partments are full."

"Mind if we join you?"

"We can leave, if you like."

Harry blinked at the irrepressible twins. He had long since learned to differentiate between the two, and recognised them easily. He came back to himself with a start and gave them a smile, albeit somewhat shakily.

"Be my guest," Harry waved a hand casually at the empty seats. "Out of the way, Snuffles." The animagus gave him a reproachful stare but obeyed, leaping up onto the seat next to him. Fred and George stared.

"Merlin's balls –" Fred choked out.

"That there dog's huge!" George agreed.

"Sinister appearance, doncha think?" They looked carefully at the large animal.

"Positively Grim." George deadpanned.

Harry half-laughed, half-groaned at the terrible pun. "That was just bad."

"Predictable really, coming from George." Fred grinned, and was promptly hit upside the head by his offended twin.

"Personally, _I_ found it rather punny," George said haughtily. Harry and Fred giggled and threw robes at him. Harry composed himself and pasted a curious expression on his face.

"So he's George, and you are –?"

"Alfred Georginton Weasley, at y'service, but everyone calls me 'Fred'."

"Georginton Alfred Weasley, at y'service, known to the world as 'George'."

Harry tried, rather unsuccessfully, to cover up his laugh. Fred and George had never told him their true names before, and to be frank, he couldn't blame them. "Your names are very…unusual," he chuckled.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'disgusting' –"

"Wretched –"

"Detestable –"

"Sickening –"

"Loathsome –"

"Icky!"

The others stared at George in astonishment.

"'Icky'?" Fred echoed disbelievingly.

Harry noted with interest the rather unattractive shade of burgundy George's ears had turned. He suppressed a frown. He couldn't remember the twins ever being embarrassed about something they had done or said.

"What about you?" The sheepish twin asked Harry, no doubt hoping to divert some of the attention. Harry blinked and tried to organise his thoughts again. The George he knew would never have shied from extra attention.

Harry remembered somewhat belatedly that they didn't really know him. "Sorry about that – the name's Harry Potter, and no, Harry is not short for Harold, Henry or whatever else you can think of."

The twins nodded amiably, plopping themselves opposite Harry. "Harry Potter, eh?" Fred mused aloud. "I think I've heard of that name somewhere."

Harry snorted. Snuffles, who had been listening to the conversation with amusement, stiffened beside him, but calmed down as Harry pressed a warning hand on his head.

George snapped his fingers. "History class!"

Fred grinned in recognition. "The Fall of You-Know-Who."

"But Harry Potter is dead."

"Not dead – vanished. _Presumed_ dead, my dear twin."

Harry cleared his throat pointedly. "I'm still here, you know," he said wryly. He quoted that "rumours of my death have been much exaggerated."

"Huh." George scratched his head.

"Teaches them to scold _us_ about assuming." Fred sniffed disparagingly.

"Making _ass_es out of yo_u_ and _me_, you mean," George reminded his mock-outraged brother. Snuffles made a whuffling sound that was very like doggy laughter.

Harry shook his head. "How about we start this over." He held out his hand, smiling disarmingly. "Harry James Potter, called Harry."

Fred flashed a molar-baring grin. "Alfred Georginton Weasley, called Fred," he reintroduced himself, grabbing Harry's arm and pumping it up and down until it felt like it could take no more abuse from the exuberant Weasley.

"Georginton Alfred Weasley, called George." It was George's turn to shake Harry's hand until it felt like it would fall off. "Abso-bally-lutely corking to make your acquaintance –"

"Simply spiffy!" Fred nodded sagely.

Harry laughed.

"So, where have you been for the past ten years?" They were simply curious; no harm would come of answering or evading.

"Just out and around," he said vaguely. "I can't really say."

They looked somewhat disappointed, but Fred pulled out a stack of Exploding Snap cards and began dealing them. "S'okay, Harry m'lad. Mum's the word and all that."

Harry sighed in relief. "Sorry, but –" he didn't want the twins to think he was an uptight stick-up-arse kind of person.

"Forget it, Harry. Ever played Slapjack 'Explosive Style'?"

"You'll have to teach me, George."

"I'm Fred!" The twin protested.

Harry grinned in spite of himself. "Nice try, but you can't fool me."

"Excellent, my dear twin!" George cried, wiping a fake tear from his eyes.

"A challenge!" Fred agreed enthusiastically.

Harry rolled his eyes. Some things never changed.

* * *

Due to Harry's quick reflexes, he picked up on the game quickly and Fred and George were sorely regretting teaching him in the first place. They had started gambling with knuts and sweets, and Snuffles had just begun to whine reprovingly and was currently giving Harry the Look. 

Harry ignored him, as he was busy playing with the pile of winnings he had shoved into the centre of the floor. Fred and George looked up as the door slid open once more.

"Um…is there any more room?" Harry's head snapped up at the voice. Behind him, he felt rather than saw Fred and George stiffen.

"Malfoy," they stated in unison.

Draco shifted unhappily. "I'm sorry; if you'd rather I find another compartment…"

"Please do –"

"Of course not," Harry cut in hastily. He had no idea what would prompt the boys' reaction to Draco, considering they had probably never met him before. However, he seemed genuine enough, and Harry's instincts were seldom wrong. Besides, he was curious; they had received very little news while they were on the run, but Sirius had assured him he'd kept in touch with some of his (dodgier) sources.

Draco looked uncertainly at them. "Are you sure? I can –"

"The other compartments are all full, so unless you want to hitch a ride atop the cars instead, just join us. I promise they won't bite."

"And if they do?" Draco sat down warily.

Harry shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he answered. "Now tell me; why are you guys so tense?"

Fred couldn't keep quiet any longer. "_His_ father," he began, pointing a shaking finger at Draco, "sent him to kidnap our sister."

Harry blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he said incredulously. Something angry stirred in him, and he quashed it determinedly. "Start all over."

Draco made a poor attempt at a sneer. "Why should I tell you?"

George made a frustrated noise. "Because if you don't, you _will_ be hitching a ride on the back of one of these cars!"

While they were arguing, Harry probed delicately at their minds with his Legilimency skills, careful not to let them sense a second presence in their heads. What he found made him bite back an oath, and he stood abruptly. "While you guys get over yourselves and decide to act nice, I'm going to take a trip to the necessaries. Would you guys like anything from the cart, though?" He dangled his winnings from the twins tauntingly underneath their noses and they grinned in spite of themselves.

"How about some liquorice wands, good sir?" George stood up and bowed elaborately, his arm hitting Fred on the nose.

His sibling glared as he bowed in turn. "Pumpkin Fizz, if you would be so kind, Harry old chap."

"Of course," Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a little laugh. "Pip, pip and all that." He turned to Draco. "And you?"

Draco smiled stiffly. "I wouldn't want to impose. Nothing for me, thank you."

"Fine. Come, Snuffles!" Harry beckoned to a guilty-looking Sirius and they left the compartment, the latter's head and tail hanging mournfully.

Harry looked up and down the train before ducking into the loo, his 'familiar' sheepishly following him. When Harry had locked the door, he rounded on the animagus.

"Ward the room for privacy," he ordered through gritted teeth. "You and I have some things to _discuss_."

Snuffles became Sirius, who put an imperturbable charm on the cubicle and several silencing charms before facing his charge almost reluctantly. Harry was smiling.

"Do you know what I found out?" he asked rhetorically. "I found out that Lucius Malfoy decided not to waste gold and prestige getting his obsequious self back up the Minister's arse, but is now a self-proclaimed – and pathetic – Dark Lord. He hasn't a tenth of Voldemort's power, and is not the most awe-inspiring leader, but he is a serious danger to muggleborns and halfbloods and Muggles."

Sirius squeaked, a most un-canine-like sound.

"Well? Did you know?"

'_Of course he knows,_' Harry thought savagely. '_In all these years, I have never so much as set my eyes on a copy of the Daily Prophet! Sirius kept up with news at home; he admitted as much a few days ago, but this is just…he promised he would let me know if anything big happened!_'

"I knew," Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But you seemed to have so much on your mind. Think on it, Harry – I've done my best to give you a good childhood under the circumstances, but it was not the best. I just wanted you to have fun while it lasted."

Harry deflated and looked at his hands. "You've been a wonderful godfather, Padfoot. I'm sorry I snapped at you, but it's very…yeah."

Sirius smiled grimly. "It's okay," he said offhandedly. "Now, you promised those twins that you would get them sweets. What about your poor, starving godfather?"

Harry shook his head. "You're hiding something," he said suddenly. "What is it?"

Sirius sighed. "Nothing much gets past you, kiddo." He paused and fished around in his robe pockets, coming up with a battered scrap of parchment. Harry accepted it and scanned it quickly.

* * *

_Archived As:_

Dracona impuritus

_Common Name(s):_

_Wyrm, Wurm_

_Origin:_

_Wizard_

_Status:_

_Extremely Rare_

_Class:_

_XXXXX_

_Lifespan:_

_Three days_

_Appearance:_

_It resembles nothing more than a two hundred-foot-long annelid with a many-fanged mouth and wings. It has numerous pores on its body, all of which ooze an odious slime that protects the Wyrm from drying out. _

_Behaviour:_

_Its sole purpose is to kill and destroy. It was also created with leeching magic from wizardfolk in mind; it possesses an aura of dark energy that will sap it from the very bodies of the magical folk. After three days, it will disintegrate, and all the stolen magic will be absorbed by the creator. _

_Properties:_

_The slime is mildly poisonous if not neutralised by powdered Ashwinder eggs first, and then will serve as an excellent remedy for burns._

_Other:_

_It is created by feeding an ordinary annelid on human blood (the creator's) for eleven days, and etching certain runes on its body as it feeds. The ritual requires the soul sacrifice of a seventh child of a seventh child (pure wizarding heritage), after which the wyrm is left alone in complete darkness for another eleven days. When dropped in water, it will grow to its full size within twenty-three minutes and then start its rampage. Only two times in history has the creation of a Wyrm succeeded, the most notable incident being what Muggles call the Black Death, or the bubonic plague. While the Wyrm turns wizards into squibs, it has a far more devastating effect on Muggles. It is only visible to those of magical heritage and ability.

* * *

_

Harry sighed. "Lucius Malfoy wants to create a Wyrm so that he could be as powerful as Voldemort, right?"

Sirius nodded grimly. "He'll be even more so than Voldemort was. Even Voldemort was only up to twenty-five times stronger than the average wizard. A Wyrm's biological and magical makeup doesn't allow it to store more than a few hundred people's magic, but he'd still have more magic than the entire inner circle put together."

Harry bit his lip. "I can see why Gi – the Weasley Girl's got a guard around her. As Seventh Child…" he said slowly. At Sirius' questioning glance, he shrugged sheepishly. "I picked up on some of their thoughts. Legilimency."

"Harry, you know that it's unethical –"

Harry snorted, cutting his godfather's lecture off before it really began. "This is coming from the man with alley-cat morals." Sirius opened his mouth, to protest it, no doubt, but he was interrupted by Neasa's urgent hiss.

_: Massster, people outside: _Neasa's tongue flickered out, scenting the air. The snake's heat-sense was unhampered by the wards. _: Three humansss: two malesss, one female. :_

Harry sighed and looked at Sirius. "Can you turn yourself into something discreet? I don't fancy being branded as the guy who brings his familiar everywhere, including to the lav."

His godfather grumbled and pulled out his wand again. "_Finite incantatem_ to undo it, okay? It'll take more time to set that up as the trigger, though…." Harry grinned. Sirius and his father had been whizzes in Transfiguration, and he loved to watch his godfather work at his subject.

_: Tell the mutt to hurry:_ Neasa spat. _: They are waiting outside:_

Harry cancelled the wards quickly before leaning over and flushing the toilet and turning on the tap, running water over his hands to complete the façade. He picked up a squeaky rubber toy and smiled in amusement before pocketing it. '_Typical of Sirius to transfigure himself into something that would make plenty of noise given a chance,_' he thought fondly.

He walked straight into someone he was _not_ expecting to see.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he stared into the weary face of Remus Lupin.

* * *

**  
A/N: I'm not quite sure where the quote 'rumours of my death…' came from, but it's a quote, if a little corrupted.

* * *

**


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